Second Contact
by Aesop
Summary: A distress call from an alien ship leads to an unexpected and unwanted reunion.


**SECOND CONTACT**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Star Trek: TNG or Elfen Lied. This was written for my own amusement.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: After I watched the anime, Elfen Lied, a number of ideas popped into my head. I wrote my first Elfen Lied fic and still had an idea that wouldn't leave me alone, so here is my next idea for the future of the series.

OOOOOOOOOO

"On screen," Worf ordered, and the alien craft came into sharp focus. "Sensor readings?"

"Definitely unfamiliar, sir. We have nothing like it in our records," the Vulcan ensign manning tactical reported. "The ship is heavily damaged. Minimal life support. Engines and key systems are offline."

"Hail them." With the captain indisposed in sickbay, and Riker, Data, and Troi off the ship, handling the emergency fell to him.

"Getting a response, sir. On screen."

The face that appeared on the static filled viewscreen belonged to a species Worf did not know. While humanoid and apparently female, the oddly colored hair and horns at the sides of her head made her distinctive. "This is the Federation starship, _Enterprise_. I assure you, our intentions are peaceful. We picked up your signal and stand ready to assist."

"That signal was not meant for you," the alien responded. "We have protocols for first contact. This is not allowed…whatever it might cost us," she finished before Worf could point out the condition of her ship.

"What can we do to reassure you?" Worf asked. "We do not wish to simply stand by and watch you and your crew die."

"Then depart," the alien answered. Her answer sent a chill down several spines on the bridge, but it seemed to only anger Worf.

"What manner of captain allows their crew to die when there is a way to live? I am a Klingon, and we believe that dying in the service of our people is an honor, but to throw away the lives of your crew to no good end, simply for protocol? When there is a way to ensure their survival? There is no honor in that."

"Perhaps not," the captain of the other vessel responded, "but it is what is required of us." The vessel rocked under an internal explosion, and the viewscreen blanked out for a moment. When the signal was restored, the alien captain lay across a console positioned behind her, her neck at an impossible angle. There were cries of distress from the bridge crew, as two officers whose stations were in ruins rushed to check on her. After a moment, one glanced up at the screen. The male straightened and approached.

"You are…correct, Captain. Our superiors will not be pleased, but I cannot let my crew die for protocol. Please, render what aid you can. I will take the necessary precautions." He gave a slight bow, and the screen went blank.

"Worf to sickbay."

"We've been monitoring, Lieutenant-Commander," the Captain's voice responded. "Doctor Crusher is readying medical teams, and engineering teams are scrambling. Good work, Worf."

OOOOOOOOOO

Doctor Crusher stared at the aliens blocking her path. "I'm here to help," she insisted. "I don't mean any harm to your people!"

"You're Human," one of them stated flatly. "Nothing was said of allowing Humans on board." There was a commotion in the sickbay behind the security people.

"Let them through, or get your medical certificate in the next ten seconds," an aggravated voice demanded. "I can't do this all myself!" The three security officers reluctantly stood aside. "Watch them carefully," the female who was frantically trying to save a badly burned patient amended, "but don't get in the way."

"I'm Dr. Crusher," Beverly introduced herself, as she and the two doctors with her spread out.

"Dr. Uzuki. A pleasure. Pick a patient, any patient." The woman did not even look up.

"You're on your own?" Beverly asked, working to stem the bleeding of a male with a large sliver of metal protruding from his chest.

"This is my nurse," the Uzuki indicated her patient. "Her console exploded. That's Doctor Ito you're treating."

Beverly and the others were too busy to respond.

OOOOOOOOOO

The engineering crew was struggling to put out fires, but that didn't stop two angry looking crewmembers from blocking the path of the _Enterprise_ engineering team, much to Geordi's confusion.

"We're here to help," he protested.

"History is being made," one of them growled. "A Human wants to help."

A large male pulled himself away from the power conduit he was trying to repair and snapped at his crew. "Put them to work. We don't have time to be choosy."

"Yes, Lieutenant," one answered, getting out of the way. "We'll be watching them closely."

"Do that," the lieutenant nodded, returning to his task. Geordi and the others traded baffled looks but got to work.

OOOOOOOOOO

Two frantic hours later, the worst of the catastrophe was behind the crew of the _Wanta_. The _Enterprise_ officers were finally able to take a deep breath and properly survey the damage.

Captain Picard was in his ready room when he received the report. "The ship and all salvageable systems are stable for the moment, but there's still a lot of work to do. It looks like it started with a ruptured power conduit, probably an undetected micro-fracture in the metal."

"Break it down for me, Mr. LaForge," the captain ordered briskly.

"Life support is functioning at 80% and holding. The computer is fully functional. Communications are functional, but it's a patch job. Sublight drives will manage about half impulse. The warp-drive is shot, and there's nothing we can do about that. Navigation and sensors are fully functional, but Captain, the navigational database has been wiped. No record of where they've been or where they were going or how to get there."

"That seems rather specific. I thought you said the computer was fully functional."

"It is. This was done deliberately. Their security chief told me it was to prevent an unknown alien race from learning the location of their home world."

"Are they xenophobes?"

"Err… Not exactly, Captain. There's something weird going on here. They've never heard of the Federation, met Telarites, Andorians, or Vulcans, but they know Humans. And Captain? They don't like us."

Picard frowned in confusion. "How? No, never mind. Are you in any danger?"

"No, Captain. Fortunately, looks can't kill, and they've made no overt threats."

"Continue your work. I'll try to get to the bottom of this."

"Aye, sir. LaForge out."

Picard sat back and thought about the people they were helping. He had learned that they called themselves Diclonius, which rang a bell in his mind, but he had dismissed it as a coincidence. Alien words often cropped up in English having unexpected meanings. There had been a few funny and not so funny incidents because of linguistic difficulties. Apparently, the Algolian word for marriage was the same as a rather impolite English word.

Deciding that speculation was pointless, he opened communication with the Diclonius' vessel. A moment later, the officer that Worf had spoken to earlier appeared. "Greetings. I am Captain Jean Luc Picard of the _Enterprise_. Who do I have the honor of addressing?"

The Diclonius tensed at the sight of him, but answered. "I am Commander Murakami, second officer of the _Wanta_. I…appreciate your assistance, Captain. Your actions are generous, considering our history." Angry muttering broke out to Murakami's right, and he cast a quelling look in that direction.

"You have me at a disadvantage, sir. I am unaware of any past dealings between your people and my own."

"The records do indicate they like to edit their history," a female officer offered, casting a disdainful glance at the screen. "Perhaps they've erased the records of us."

"Perhaps," Murakami answered, turning to glare at the woman, "but if so, they are not the only ones with selective memory, or have you forgotten there were many deaths on both sides? Return to your duties."

"Commander," Picard began, not bothering to hide his honest confusion. "What is behind this? I am a student of my people's history, and I have no knowledge of the Diclonius."

"A sad statement for a student of history," Murakami answered with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

OOOOOOOOOO

"He's seizing. Three milligrams saritizine." The convulsions were making it difficult to administer the hypospray, but then her patient was pushed back into the bed by an unseen force.

"Hurry up, I've got him." Uzuki had barely glanced at them.

Beverly hesitated a second, but decided to figure it out later. When her patient was stable again, she ran a quick scan with the tricorder. There were two…somethings…holding him down. They didn't match anything in the tricorder's memory.

"How are you doing that?" she asked the Diclonius doctor.

"My vectors," the other replied. "It's one of the reasons we left. You don't read your own history, do you?" Beverly glanced at the other doctor, confused, but before she could ask, another patient distracted her.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Power it up slowly," Geordi ordered. "Let's see how much it can take."

"It won't take more than 30%," Shimizu, their chief engineer, told him. "I know this system. Your gadget is impressive, beyond our technology, certainly, but it won't handle more than 30%."

"Have a little faith," Geordi told him. "Bring it up slow. Start with 10%...15%...20%." He watched the display carefully. "Good, good, take it to 30%." He grinned. "Excellent, holding steady." He double-checked the readings. "Okay, try 35%...good, go to 40%." After a few seconds, the display began to fluctuate wildly. He was yanked backwards by what felt like two steel bands around his chest and gut just before the EPS conduit blew. When his vision cleared, he was still suspended two feet off the floor.

"I'll spare you the 'I-told-you-so'." Shimizu snorted.

Geordi was staring at the energy field suspending him in the air. He had seen flashes of motion, bands of force that moved with incredible speed, but he had not had the leisure to consider them at the time. "What is this?" he asked, following the bands of energy to their source. They seemed to be emanating from the backs of one of the female officers. When he touched one of the bands, he found himself dropped to the deck as they were hastily withdrawn.

"It's not safe to touch the vectors," Shimizu told him.

"Oh. Why's that?" He got no answer. The Diclonius glanced at each other.

"Be sure medical protocol is followed before they leave. Run the lot of them through sickbay," Shimizu ordered.

"Sickbay?" Geordi asked.

"Our vectors are no more weapons than your arms and legs, but they're a lot more powerful. Injury can happen without intent."

"I'm not injured," he nodded toward the woman, "thanks to her."

"That's good, but the protocol remains."

"The vectors are hard to see because they vibrate at a high rate of speed," the crewmember that had grabbed him explained. "Sometimes that causes injuries that take a while to show themselves."

"It was that advantage that frightened people most," another engineer put in. "Don't know what your histories say about it, but most of our historians agree. Nakura said that the Humans' reaction to a new species emerging in their midst, especially one with such an advantage, was understandable."

"Nakura was too forgiving," Shimizu opined.

"Perhaps, but it was one of the main reasons our ancestors were driven off Earth." Geordi and the others were gaping at their hosts. Before any of them ask any of the questions that were bubbling up in their minds, the chief engineer spoke up.

"'Driven off' is far too polite," Shimizu scowled. "The Humans tried to exterminate us. Our ancestors weren't exactly given that ship, were they? They had to steal it."

OOOOOOOOOO

Jean Luc Picard was numb. There was no other way to describe it. What he had just been told was impossible, but the evidence they offered certainly seemed genuine.

He stared at the picture before him. Three Humans, a young couple, 20 at most and a teenage girl were posing before a Buddhist shrine with two Diclonius females. One looked to be the same age as the couple. The other was perhaps a year younger than the teenage girl. The younger Diclonius was holding a yellow-furred puppy and gripping a paw, as if trying to get the dog to wave to the camera. The setting and clothing seemed to mark it as late 20th or early 21st century Earth.

"Those you see in the picture were among the last Humans that the Diclonius trusted," Murakami offered. "My ship is the latest in a long line that was actually named for that small animal."

"Nowhere in our surviving history of the period," Picard answered, "do I find record of your people. Such an evolutionary development must have been noticed-"

"Oh, it was noticed," Murakami interrupted. "It was noticed, caged, and studied to the point of vivisection. It was the Humans in that photograph that sheltered the first Diclonius to escape captivity. They did what few others would do."

"I can certainly understand your distrust, commander, but I have the feeling I'm missing something. Even in that day, I find it difficult to believe that physical differences alone, so minor as to be almost cosmetic, would provoke the kind of reaction you describe."

"Perhaps, because there are more than cosmetic differences."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Incredible," Beverly exclaimed. "The physical strength behind the vectors is simply amazing."

"That's one of the reasons we were considered so dangerous," Dr. Uzuki replied, withdrawing the vector into herself. "The institute responsible for studying our people saw their potential as weapons. It wasn't until Kouta and Yuka started taking in runaways that they were viewed as people." She brought up another image. This showed the same group of people in a different setting. It appeared to be a traditional Japanese house, and the people were a few years older. There was one addition. A Diclonius child held lovingly in Yuka's arms.

The next picture showed the same child standing next to her mother who was heavily pregnant. Kouta stood with a hand on his daughter's head and the other on his wife's shoulder. Similar pictures followed.

"Kouta and Yuka's children were all Diclonius?"

"Yes, thanks to the retrovirus."

Dr. Crusher nodded as she considered the implications. "It rewrites the reproductive DNA of infected individuals. That was how the Diclonius spread at first. For early 21st century Humans, that must have been terrifying. What is the efficacy of the anti-virus? And the inoculant?"

"100% effective for both. We developed them so we could safely interact with other species. It isn't a problem now, but it was a good excuse for genocide back then." Beverly winced but had no real answer to that. "It wasn't one-sided, by any means. Our ancestors did their fair share of damage. The older girl in the picture was called Lucy. When she escaped the Institute, she killed 23 people, including an unarmed secretary who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That type of behavior started to change with these people." She gestured to the pictures on the screen. "They discovered something that the people at the institute never suspected."

"What was that?" Beverly glanced away from the pictures.

"That if you don't cage children from infancy on, subjecting them to horrific experiments while telling them that they're monsters and forcing them to use their vectors to defend themselves, they have a chance to become something besides living weapons that hate Humans."

"I…I can understand your reaction to us," Beverly sighed. "But a lot has changed. Hard as it may be to believe, Humanity really has grown over the past couple of centuries."

OOOOOOOOOO

"That is as may be, Captain. I hope it is true." Murakami answered sitting back in the command chair. He was more relaxed as the troubling meeting was almost at an end. "It doesn't change the past, though." Murakami looked to a point off screen and checked his display. "All of your people have received medical clearance and returned to the _Enterprise_, and the Nibarite vessel we summoned has entered sensor range. They will assist us in returning home." He straightened and faced the viewscreen again. "It would seem that this is goodbye, Captain Picard. I trust you understand our reasons for not sharing the location of our world."

"I understand, Commander. Perhaps what has happened here today and acknowledgement of our shared history will help open a dialogue and change your view of us. I hope that it will not be another 300 years before our peoples meet again."

"We shall see, Captain. I'll tell our leaders what happened here, but I make no promises."

THE END


End file.
